FOR HIM, WHEN FIRST MY SON WILL READ

FOR HIM, WHEN FIRST MY SON WILL READ

Now all your dreams are drugs, neat, safe,

Glowing dull beyond what eyes refuse

Of light.  What now is yours is owned, which

Even beggars cannot budge.  Learn that

For now, and live the share of life you

Haven’t earned.  Then, know that gifts are good,

But effort betters even love, the only

Peer of trust.  And, all the dangers gamblers

Take in merely breathing life’s sweet chance

Lifts love above the giving’s loving glare.

You know by now—your eyes avoid so much—

That even I, whose fading colors start

The dark deep stance of fear; whose songs are yours,

But beg the trust our unshared dreams reveal

Through all the great sad noise that reason

Sounds, may somehow burn through your few years

Of fear, and lend to you the courage Makers

Learn in muddling.  So read, at least, and try.